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Broomthrow, Brushthrow, Combthrow

Austria, Theodor Vernaleken

In a castle there once lived a count by the name of Rudolf. His wife had a golden cross on her forehead. Their daughter Adelheid had the same mark on her forehead. When she was twenty years old her mother suddenly died.

The count's and his daughter's sorrow and grief were endless. After the mother's burial, the father and his child locked themselves in their rooms and were seldom seen.

After a month had passed, the count had his daughter brought to his room and said to her, "Dear child, you know how much I loved your mother. I cannot live without a wife. Therefore I am going out into the world to seek a wife who -- like your blessed mother -- has a golden cross on her forehead. If I do not find such a woman within a year and a day, then I will marry you."

When Adelheid heard these words she was very upset, and she silently withdrew. The next morning Count Rudolf departed, promising to return within a year and a day.

When Adelheid was alone she considered whether or not it would be possible for her father to find a woman with such a cross. Then she remembered that her mother had once told her that except for her and Adelheid, no one on the entire earth had such a cross.

She decided to go away. She would rather earn her bread with the work of her own hands than to eat the finest tidbits at her father's table as his wife. She entrusted one of her loyal servants with her plan, and they made preparations to depart.

She secretly loaded her valuables, her jewelry, her gold, and her clothes into several large carriages. During the night she drove off with them, accompanied by her servant Gotthold and several others who were loyal to her. They came to a large city where she rented a house and moved into it with her servants.

Adelheid had often stated that she wanted to earn her bread with the work of her own hands. Therefore Gotthold sought a position for his mistress in the city. He learned that there was an opening for a kitchen maid in the castle of Prince Adolf. Thus he went to the chief cook and asked him if he would be willing to hire his niece, for that is what he called the countess. As he talked further with the chief cook, Gotthold recognized in him a friend whom he had not seen for many years. He told him that his brother had died, leaving a daughter in his care. The chief cook agreed to hire her.

The loyal servant happily returned to the countess and remained in the rented house.

Adelheid now dyed her face, neck, and hands brown; covered her golden cross and her hair with a large head-scarf; took off her magnificent robes, putting on instead old, dirty, torn clothing; and presented herself to the chief cook.

She was given a small room where she could sleep and keep her things. Slowly she grew accustomed to her job, even though she was exhausted by the hard work.

Until now she had not yet seen the prince. One day he invited all his friends and acquaintances to a great ball. On the morning of the ball, Adelheid was sweeping the staircase, when the prince, without being seen by her, walked up and tipped over the dust pail, thus dirtying his boots. As she was fleeing he angrily ripped the broom from her hands and threw it at her.

That evening as the hall was filling with people, the young countess went to the chief cook and asked him for permission to go to the ball.

He replied, "No, I cannot allow you to do that. What if the prince were to find out!"

Adelheid continued to beg, until he finally said, "Just go. But don't stay too late, and if you get anything, bring some back for me as well."

Now she went to Gotthold's house, changed her clothes, washed away the color, and ordered up a splendid carriage in which she rode to the prince's.

When the guests saw the splendid carriage approaching in the distance they all hurried outside and said, "A foreign lady! A beautiful lady!"

The prince hurried toward her, lifted her from her carriage, and led her up the stairs. She had to dance with him the entire evening and to sit next to him at the table. After eating, he asked her what her name was and where she came from.

"My name is Adelheid, and I come from Broomthrow," replied the countess.

At twelve o'clock she left, and with her the majority of guests.

Arriving at home she quickly got undressed, colored herself brown, and took three gold pieces which she gave to the chief cook, claiming that she had stood behind a door and had received the gold from an old woman.

The next morning the prince looked for Broomthrow on his maps, but he could not find it. He wanted to ask her about her home city once again, but because he did not know where she lived he invited his friends to a second ball.

On the morning of the second ball Adelheid was brushing her clothing when the prince, without being seen, came up the stairs. She turned around and dropped the brush, which fell onto the prince's feet. Angrily Adolf picked up the brush and threw it at the embarrassed countess's head.

That evening the chief cook once again allowed her to go the ball, and she took advantage of his permission. At the ball Adolf told her that he had not been able to find Broomthrow.

"How could you be looking for Broomthrow?" she replied. "I said Brushthrow."

Once again they danced together, and as midnight approached she went home. She brought the chief cook a gold band, claiming that she had received it as a gift.

The next morning the prince looked for Brushthrow, but could not find it. He then invited his friends and acquaintances to a third ball, which was to be even more magnificent than the first two.

On the eve of the ball, shortly before the festivities were to begin, Adelheid, contrary to custom, was combing her hair in the castle. The prince, displeased because the foreign lady had not arrived yet, walked up the stairs just as the countess dropped her comb. Prince Adolf picked it up and threw it at the kitchen servant's head. She quickly withdrew, changed her clothes, and went to the ball.

At the table the prince said that he had not been able to find Brushthrow anywhere.

"I can believe that," she said. "I called the place Combthrow." He didn't want to believe her, but she argued with him until he finally gave in. Before she left he placed a ring on her finger, without her noticing it.

The next morning the prince was not well, and he asked a chief cook to make soup for him. The latter announced this in the kitchen, and Adelheid asked for permission to make the soup. But he said, "If you put something in the soup that doesn't belong there, then I am the one who will be punished."

She replied, "I will not put anything wrong in it." She made the soup, and without being seen, she threw the prince's ring into the soup.

The prince poured the soup into a dish and heard something jingle. He felt around and fished out the ring. Amazed, he then asked who had made the soup.

"The kitchen maid" was the answer.

Adolph ordered his servant, "Bring her here."

She hurriedly put on the dress that she had worn the previous evening, and when the prince saw her, he recognized his dance partner. She now had to tell him her life story, and soon afterward he married her.

In the meantime her father had come home, and when he discovered that his daughter had already married, he had to accept his fate.

---

Source: Theodor Vernaleken, Österreichische Kinder- und Hausmärchen: Treu nach mündlicher Überlieferung (Vienna: Wilhelm Braumüller, 1864), no. 33, pp. 172-77.

Cinder Blower

Karl Bartsch

A rich widower had an only daughter who was developing into a beautiful and charming woman. Her father's heart became inflamed with impure love, but she withstood his advances. He threatened to force himself on her, and she responded with cunning. She promised to yield to his will if he would give her a dress made of silver. When she received such a dress, she then demanded one made from gold, and the third time, one made from jewels. After receiving that one as well, she said, "Now all I need is a crow-skin coat," and then she made one last wish: a magic wand. These too she received.

Now in another land there lived a prince who had heard of the girl's beauty. Taking the magic wand in her hand and the dresses over her shoulder, she wished herself to the vicinity of the prince's castle. She immediately found herself in the castle garden. Then she wished for herself a chest in an oak tree in the garden, put her dresses in it, put on the crow-skin coat and went to the castle kitchen where she presented herself as a poor boy looking for work.

"I can use you," said the cook. "You can be the cinder blower."

A few days later the prince came to the kitchen with some freshly killed game. She saw him and liked him beyond measure.

Soon afterward there was a wedding in a nearby castle, and the prince went to it. Many people went there to look on at the dance. Cinder Blower asked the cook for permission to observe. She ran to the oak tree, put on the silver dress, and wished herself a carriage in which she rode to the castle. The prince saw her and danced with her, but after a few dances she disappeared. Seating herself in her carriage she said,

Darkness behind me, Before me light,
So none can follow me into the night.

The next morning the prince was in a bad mood, for he had been awake all night thinking about his beautiful dance partner. Cinder Blower was asked to polish his boots, and this she did, but she failed to polish one small spot on one of the toes. The prince noticed this and angrily came into the kitchen and threw the boot at her head.

The next evening there was another dance, and Cinder Blower again asked for permission to go. This time she put on the golden dress, then rode there in the carriage. The prince had been looking for her and was very happy when she arrived. While dancing with her he asked her where she lived.

"In Boot-Throw" was her answer. She remained there one hour, and then disappeared. In vain the prince asked where Boot-Throw was. No one could tell him.

Again that night the prince could not close his eyes, and the next day he was in an even worse mood than before.

Cinder Blower was asked to brush his coat, but he did not like the way she did it, and finally he threw the brush at her head.

The third evening Cinder Blower again asked for permission to look on at the dance, then put on her dress of precious stones. While dancing with her the prince asked her where she lived.

"In Brush-Throw," was her answer.

"Whoever you are," he said, "take this ring from me."

She let him put the ring onto her finger. Then she tried to sneak away, but the prince carefully watched her and followed close behind her. She climbed out of her carriage near the oak tree. However, she did not have time to take off her dress, but quickly put on the crow-skin coat over it.

The next morning when the cook was preparing the soup, Cinder Blower dropped the ring into it. The prince found it and asked the cook who had been in the kitchen.

"Only Cinder Blower and I," he answered.

The prince summoned Cinder Blower and said, "My head itches. Look and see if any vermin are there."

Cinder Blower obeyed, but when she stood before him, he saw the diamond dress glistening forth from beneath the worn-out crow-skin coat. Then he recognized her. "Now you are mine," he said, and he made her his wife and they lived happily together until they died.

---

Source: Karl Bartsch, Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus Meklenburg [Mecklenburg] (Vienna: Wilhelm Braumüller, 1879, vol. 1, pp. 479-481.

Emperor Heinrich in Sudemer Mountain

Germany

Emperor Heinrich the Fowler liked to stay at Goslar, which he often did, and many stories are told about him there. Above all they tell about how marvelously beautiful his wife was, and how he could not be consoled when she died.

After his grief had subsided somewhat, he revealed to his own daughter, who was almost more beautiful than her mother, his sinful desire to marry her. She appropriately resisted him, finally convincing him to first to travel to the courts of all the kings and counts in Europe in search of a spouse more beautiful than she. He traveled far and wide, but finally returned with the news that a more beautiful woman could not be found anywhere. But still she resisted his pleas and his advances.

Finally he set the condition that he would desist from his demands if she could create a blanket upon which all of the earths animals could be seen. She went into a small chapel in the upper city and fervently prayed to God, but she found no comfort in her prayers, so finally in despair she called upon the devil to come and help her. He appeared immediately, saying that he would bring the blanket to her, if she could remain awake in the chapel for three days and three nights.

She brought her little dog into the chapel with her and spent the time ceaselessly praying. However, during the third night, just as morning was breaking, sleep almost overcame her. At that moment the devil approached, and her little dog, seeing him, pulled at her skirt so vigorously that she jumped up.

The devil angrily dropped the blanket, furiously threw the little dog against church wall, and disappeared. She took the blanket to her father, who then was overcome by such powerful pain that he lost all will to live. He bewitched himself into the Sudemer Mountain near Goslar, whose watchtower is visible throughout the region. There he sits until the present day, and will return only when Goslar finds itself in great need, or when the Day of Judgment arrives.

Others say that the emperor is sitting in Rammel Mountain, and that before his death he had three stones mortared into the Goslars city wall, saying that he would return when these stones fall out. But no one knows which stones they are.

---

Source: A. Kuhn and W. Schwartz, "Kaiser Heinrich in Sudemerberg," Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus Meklenburg [Mecklenburg], Pommern, der Mark, Sachsen, Thüringen, Braunschweig, Hannover, Oldenburg und Westfalen: Aus dem Munde des Volkes gesammelt (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1848), pp. 184-85.

Heinrich (Henry) the Fowler was born about 876 and died in 936. His wife Matilda founded many monasteries and is a saint of the Roman Catholic Church.

Goslar in Lower Saxony is one of northern Germanys best preserved medieval cities.

The incest motif in this legend is reminiscent of the type 510B folktales told throughout Europe. The "sleeping hero" motif (type 766) is also found in numerous folktales and legends. Link to additional Sleeping Hero Legends.

A Story Told by a Hindu

India

Once upon a time there was a Raja who had two sons, and after their father's death they divided the kingdom between them. The two brothers were inveterate gamblers and spent their time playing cards with each other. For a long time fortune was equal, but one day it turned against the elder brother, and he lost and lost until his money and his jewelry, his horses and his elephants and everything that he had, had been won by his younger brother. Then in desperation he staked his share in the kingdom, and that too he lost.

Then the younger brother sent drummers through the city to proclaim that the whole kingdom was his. The shame of this was more than the elder prince could bear, so he resolved to quit the country, and he told his wife of his intention and bade her stay behind. But his faithful wife refused to be parted from him. She vowed that he had married her not for one day nor for two, but for good and all, and that where he went, there she would go, and whatever troubles he met, she would share. So he allowed her to come with him, and the two set off to foreign parts. After some time their path led them through an extensive jungle, and after traveling through it for two days they at last lost their way completely. Their food gave out; they were faint with starvation and torn with briars.

The prince urged his wife to return, but she would not hear of it, so they pushed on, supporting life on jungle fruits. Sometimes the prince would go far ahead, for his faithful wife could only travel slowly, and then he would return and wait for her.

At last he got tired of leading her on and made up his mind to abandon her. At night they lay down at the foot of a tree, and the prince thought, "If wild animals would come and eat us, it would be the best that could happen. I cannot bear to see my wife suffer any more. Although her flesh is torn with thorns, she will not leave me. I will leave her here; may wild beasts kill both her and me, but I cannot see her die before my eyes." So thinking he got up quietly and went off as quickly as he could.

When the princess woke and found that she had been abandoned, she began to weep, and wept from dawn to noon without ceasing. At noon a being in the guise of an old woman appeared and asked her why she wept, and comforted her and promised to lead her out of the wood and told her that Chando [a sun god] had had compassion on her and would allow her to find her husband again if they both lived. So saying, the old woman led the princess from the forest and showed her the way to a great city where a Raja lived. The princess went begging her way through the city to the Raja's palace, and there they engaged her as a servant.

Now her husband had also escaped from the jungle and sought employment as a laborer, but no one would give him work for more than a day or two, and at last his search for work brought him to the city in which the princess was; and there he was engaged as a groom in the palace stables. The prince had changed his name, and he had no chance of knowing that his wife was in the palace, because she was confined to the women's apartments. So some years passed without their having news of each other.

At last one day the princess happened to go onto the roof and looking down at the stables saw and thought she recognized her husband. Then she leaned over and listened till she heard his voice, and at that she was sure that it was he, so she hastened to the Raja and begged to be allowed to meet her husband, and the Raja sent to call the syce [a servant who attends to horses] with the name which the princess had given, but no one came, for the prince would not reveal himself.

Then the princess told their story, and how her husband had gambled away his half of the kingdom. The Raja ordered anyone with such a history to come forward, as his wife was in the palace; but the prince did not reveal himself.

Then the princess said, "Let all the syces cook rice and bring me a bit of each man's cooking to taste."

They did so, and when she tasted the rice cooked by her husband, she at once said that it was his. Her husband was unable to deny it and admitted everything. Then they took him away from his work in the stables and let him live with his wife.

After a time the Raja wrote to the younger brother asking whether he would restore the half of the kingdom which he had won; and the younger brother answered that he would gladly do so, if his brother would sign an agreement never to gamble anymore. It was with this object in view and to teach him the folly of his ways that he had dispossessed him.

The elder brother gladly gave the required promise and returned to his kingdom with his faithful wife, and lived happily ever afterwards.

---

Source: Cecil Henry Bompas, Folklore of the Santal Parganas (London: David Nutt, 1909), no. 42, pp. 144-47).

Conrad von Tannenberg

Germany

Ages ago there lived in Tannenberg Castle on the mountain road a knight whose name was Conrad. He had a wife named Ann-Els who was as beautiful as she was pious. One time she became seriously ill, and he vowed that if she should recover he would make a pilgrimage to the Holy Grave and there battle against the infidels. And lo, Ann-Els recovered soon thereafter, and when her health had fully returned, the knight made himself ready to depart on a pilgrimage. With many tears he took leave of his wife and journeyed to the sea, where together with companions he had met underway he boarded a ship.

At sea the ship was attacked by pirates. He and his companions were taken prisoner and sold as slaves to an eminent Turk.

Year upon year passed, and his wife received no news from him. Because she was wealthy, she received many marriage proposals from neighboring knights, but she was interested in none of them and rejected them all, which caused a great deal of hate and animosity toward her.

Then one day she heard from another pilgrim who was returning home from the promised land that her husband was languishing as a prisoner among the Turks, and she resolved to rescue him, cost it what it may. Dressing herself in men's clothes, she took her harp, which she could play very well, and journeyed across the sea to Turkey. Arriving there safely, she sought and inquired after her husband until finally she discovered where he was. Then one day she approached the Turk who was his master and played such beautiful melodies on her harp, and sang with such charm, that the Turk said she should name her own reward, that he would give her anything she requested.

Then she said, "I ask only for a slave to serve me," and from among the slaves she selected one -- her dear husband. However, she did not identify herself to him, but kept him away from her. After the sea voyage was successfully completed and they found themselves again on Christian soil, she left a sum of money for him, then secretly slipped away and hurried home as fast as possible.

Not long afterward Conrad too arrived at Tannenberg Castle and was joyfully and festively received by his wife. All the knights from the surrounding area came to the castle to wish him well. While they were eating Knight Conrad told them of his adventures, how he had been captured, mistreated, and so miraculously rescued.

Then several of the knights whose marriage proposals Ann-Els had rejected whispered into his ear that in the meantime his wife had been traveling about the land dressed in men's clothes and leading an indecent life.

Upon hearing this Conrad jumped up angrily, drew his sword, and attempted to kill Ann-Els, but she fled into her room and barred the door so that he could not harm her. Not long afterward she returned to the hall carrying her harp and wearing the clothes in which she had freed Conrad, and she played a melody. Then Knight Conrad jumped up and fell into the singer's arms. She threw off the clothes and stood there as the faithful Ann-Els.

It is not necessary to say how happy Conrad was, nor that the gossipers disappeared as soon as they possibly could, not letting themselves be seen again, and that the festival ended even more joyfully than it had begun.

---

• Source: J. W. Wolf, "Conrad von Tannenberg," Hessische Sagen (Göttingen: Dieterichsche Buchhandlung; Leipzig: Fr. Chr. Wilh. Vogel, 1853), no. 238, pp. 147-149.

• Translated by D. L. Ashliman.

The Story of Hok Lee and the Dwarfs

China

There once lived in a small town in China a man named Hok Lee. He was a steady industrious man, who not only worked hard at his trade, but did all his own housework as well, for he had no wife to do it for him.

"What an excellent industrious man is this Hok Lee!" said his neighbors; "how hard he works: he never leaves his house to amuse himself or to take a holiday as others do!"

But Hok Lee was by no means the virtuous person his neighbors thought him. True, he worked hard enough by day, but at night, when all respectable folk were fast asleep, he used to steal out and join a dangerous band of robbers, who broke into rich people's houses and carried off all they could lay hands on. This state of things went on for some time, and, though a thief was caught now and then and punished, no suspicion ever fell on Hok Lee, he was such a very respectable, hardworking man.

Hok Lee had already amassed a good store of money as his share of the proceeds of these robberies when it happened one morning on going to market that a neighbor said to him: "Why, Hok Lee, what is the matter with your face? One side of it is all swelled up." True enough, Hok Lee's right cheek was twice the size of his left, and it soon began to feel very uncomfortable.

"I will bind up my face," said Hok Lee; "doubtless the warmth will cure the swelling." But no such thing. Next day it was worse, and day by day it grew bigger and bigger till it was nearly as large as his head and became very painful. Hok Lee was at his wits' ends what to do. Not only was his cheek unsightly and painful, but his neighbors began to jeer and make fun of him, which hurt his feelings very much indeed. One day, as luck would have it, a traveling doctor came to the town. He sold not only all kinds of medicine, but also dealt in many strange charms against witches and evil spirits.

Hok Lee determined to consult him, and asked him into his house.

After the doctor had examined him carefully, he spoke thus: "This, O Hok Lee, is no ordinary swelled face. I strongly suspect you have been doing some wrong deed which has called down the anger of the spirits on you. None of my drugs will avail to cure you, but, if you are willing to pay me handsomely, I can tell you how you may be cured."

Then Hok Lee and the doctor began to bargain together, and it was a long time before they could come to terms. However, the doctor got the better of it in the end, for he was determined not to part with his secret under a certain price, and Hok Lee had no mind to carry his huge cheek about with him to the end of his days. So he was obliged to part with the greater portion of his ill-gotten gains.

When the Doctor had pocketed the money, he told Hok Lee to go on the first night of the full moon to a certain wood and there to watch by a particular tree. After a time he would see the dwarfs and little sprites who live underground come out to dance. When they saw him they would be sure to make him dance too.

"And mind you dance your very best," added the doctor. "If you dance well and please them they will grant you a petition and you can then beg to be cured; but if you dance badly they will most likely do you some mischief out of spite." With that he took leave and departed.

Happily the first night of the full moon was near, and at the proper time Hok Lee set out for the wood. With a little trouble he found the tree the doctor had described, and, feeling nervous, he climbed up into it.

He had hardly settled himself on a branch when he saw the little dwarfs assembling in the moonlight. They came from all sides, till at length there appeared to be hundreds of them. They seemed in high glee, and danced and skipped and capered about, whilst Hok Lee grew so eager watching them that he crept further and further along his branch till at length it gave a loud crack. All the dwarfs stood still, and Hok Lee felt as if his heart stood still also.

Then one of the dwarfs called out, "Someone is up in that tree. Come down at once, whoever you are, or we must come and fetch you."

In great terror, Hok Lee proceeded to come down; but he was so nervous that he tripped near the ground and came rolling down in the most absurd manner. When he had picked himself up, he came forward with a low bow, and the dwarf who had first spoken and who appeared to be the leader, said, "Now, then, who art thou, and what brings thee here?"

So Hok Lee told him the sad story of his swelled cheek, and how he had been advised to come to the forest and beg the dwarfs to cure him.

"It is well," replied the dwarf. "We will see about that. First, however, thou must dance before us. Should thy dancing please us, perhaps we may be able to do something; but shouldst thou dance badly, we shall assuredly punish thee, so now take warning and dance away."

With that, he and all the other dwarfs sat down in a large ring, leaving Hok Lee to dance alone in the middle. He felt half frightened to death, and besides was a good deal shaken by his fall from the tree and did not feel at all inclined to dance. But the dwarfs were not to be trifled with.

"Begin!" cried their leader, and "Begin!" shouted the rest in chorus.

So in despair Hok Lee began. First he hopped on one foot and then on the other, but he was so stiff and so nervous that he made but a poor attempt, and after a time sank down on the ground and vowed he could dance no more.

The dwarfs were very angry. They crowded round Hok Lee and abused him. "Thou to come here to be cured, indeed!" they cried, "thou hast brought one big cheek with thee, but thou shalt take away two." And with that they ran off and disappeared, leaving Hok Lee to find his way home as best he might.

He hobbled away, weary and depressed, and not a little anxious on account of the dwarfs' threat.

Nor were his fears unfounded, for when he rose next morning his left cheek was swelled up as big as his right, and he could hardly see out of his eyes. Hok Lee felt in despair, and his neighbors jeered at him more than ever. The doctor, too, had disappeared, so there was nothing for it but to try the dwarfs once more.

He waited a month till the first night of the full moon came round again, and then he trudged back to the forest, and sat down under the tree from which he had fallen. He had not long to wait. Ere long the dwarfs came trooping out till all were assembled.

"I don't feel quite easy," said one; "I feel as if some horrid human being were near us."

When Hok Lee heard this he came forward and bent down to the ground before the dwarfs, who came crowding round, and laughed heartily at his comical appearance with his two big cheeks.

"What dost thou want?" they asked; and Hok Lee proceeded to tell them of his fresh misfortunes, and begged so hard to be allowed one more trial at dancing that the dwarfs consented, for there is nothing they love so much as being amused.

Now, Hok Lee knew how much depended on his dancing well, so he plucked up a good spirit and began, first quite slowly, and faster by degrees, and he danced so well and gracefully, and made such new and wonderful steps, that the dwarfs were quite delighted with him.

They clapped their tiny hands, and shouted, "Well done, Hok Lee, well done, go on, dance more, for we are pleased."

And Hok Lee danced on and on, till he really could dance no more, and was obliged to stop.

Then the leader of the dwarfs said, "We are well pleased, Hok Lee, and as a recompense for thy dancing thy face shall be cured. Farewell."

With these words he and the other dwarfs vanished, and Hok Lee, putting his hands to his face, found to his great joy that his cheeks were reduced to their natural size. The way home seemed short and easy to him, and he went to bed happy, and resolved never to go out robbing again.

Next day the whole town was full of the news of Hok's sudden cure. His neighbors questioned him, but could get nothing from him, except the fact that he had discovered a wonderful cure for all kinds of diseases.

After a time a rich neighbor, who had been ill for some years, came, and offered to give Hok Lee a large sum of money if he would tell him how he might get cured. Hok Lee consented on condition that he swore to keep the secret. He did so, and Hok Lee told him of the dwarfs and their dances.

The neighbor went off, carefully obeyed Hok Lee's directions, and was duly cured by the dwarfs. Then another and another came to Hok Lee to beg his secret, and from each he extracted a vow of secrecy and a large sum of money. This went on for some years, so that at length Hok Lee became a very wealthy man, and ended his days in peace and prosperity.

---

Source: Andrew Lang, The Green Fairy Book (London: Longmans, Green, and Company, 1892), pp. 229-233.

How an Old Man Lost His Wen

Japan

There was once an old man who had a wen on his right cheek. This disfigurement caused him a good deal of annoyance, and he had spent a considerable sum of money in trying to get rid of it. He took various medicines and applied many lotions, but instead of the wen disappearing or even diminishing, it increased in size.

One night, while the old man was returning home laden with firewood, he was overtaken by a terrible thunderstorm, and was forced to seek shelter in a hollow tree. When the storm had abated, and just as he was about to proceed on his journey, he was surprised to hear a sound of merriment close at hand. On peeping out from his place of retreat, he was amazed to see a number of demons dancing and singing and drinking. Their dancing was so strange that the old man, forgetting caution, began to laugh, and eventually left the tree in order that he might see the performance better. As he stood watching, he saw that a demon was dancing by himself, and, moreover, that the chief of the company was none too pleased with his very clumsy antics. At length the leader of the demons said: "Enough! Is there no one who can dance better than this fellow?"

When the old man heard these words, it seemed that his youth returned to him again, and having at one time been an expert dancer, he offered to show his skill. So the old man danced before that strange gathering of demons, who congratulated him on his performance, offered him a cup of sak, and begged that he would give them the pleasure of several other dances.

The old man was extremely gratified by the way he had been received, and when the chief of the demons asked him to dance before them on the following night, he readily complied. "That is well," said the chief, "but you must leave some pledge behind you. I see that you have a wen on your right cheek, and that will make an excellent pledge. Allow me to take it off for you." Without inflicting any pain, the chief removed the wen, and having accomplished this extraordinary feat, he and his companions suddenly vanished.

The old man, as he walked towards his home, kept on feeling his right cheek with his hand, and could scarcely realize that after many years of disfigurement he had at last the good fortune to lose his troublesome and unsightly wen. At length he entered his humble abode, wife was none the less pleased with what had taken place.

A wicked and cantankerous old man lived next door to this good old couple. For many years he had been afflicted with a wen on his left cheek, which had failed to yield to all manner of medical treatment. When he heard of his neighbor's good fortune, he called upon him and listened to the strange adventures with the demons. The good old man told his neighbor where he might find the hollow tree, and advised him to hide in it just before sunset.

The wicked old man found the hollow tree and entered it. He had not remained concealed more than a few minutes when he rejoiced to see the demons. Presently one of the company said: "The old man is a long time coming. I made sure he would keep his promise."

At these words the old man crept out of his hiding-place, flourished his fan, and began to dance; but, unfortunately, he knew nothing about dancing, and his extraordinary antics caused the demons to express considerable dissatisfaction. "You dance extremely ill," said one of the company, "and the sooner you stop the better we shall be pleased; but before you depart we will return the pledge you left with us last night." Having uttered these words, the demon flung the wen at the right cheek of the old man, where it remained firmly fixed, and could not be removed. So the wicked old man, who had tried to deceive the demons, went away with a wen on either side of his face.

---

Source: F. Hadland Davis, Myths and Legends of Japan (London: G. G. Harrap and Company, 1913), pp. 372-374.

The Elves and the Envious Neighbor

Japan

Once upon a time there was a certain man, who, being overtaken by darkness among the mountains, was driven to seek shelter in the trunk of a hollow tree. In the middle of the night, a large company of elves assembled at the place; and the man, peeping out from his hiding place, was frightened out of his wits. After a while, however, the elves began to feast and drink wine, and to amuse themselves by singing and dancing, until at last the man, caught by the infection of the fun, forgot all about his fright, and crept out of his hollow tree to join in the revels.

When the day was about to dawn, the elves said to the man, "You're a very jolly companion, and must come out and have a dance with us again. You must make us a promise, and keep it."

So the elves, thinking to bind the man over to return, took a large wen that grew on his forehead and kept it in pawn; upon this they all left the place, and went home.

The man walked off to his own house in high glee at having passed a jovial night, and got rid of his wen into the bargain. So he told the story to all his friends, who congratulated him warmly on being cured of his wen. But there was a neighbor of his who was also troubled with a wen of long standing, and, when he heard of his friend's luck, he was smitten with envy, and went off to hunt for the hollow tree, in which, when he had found it, he passed the night.

Elves, mistaking him for their former boon-companion, were delighted to see him, and said, "You're a good fellow to recollect your promise, and we'll give you back your pledge."

So one of the elves, pulling the pawned wen out of his pocket, stuck it onto the man's forehead, on the top of the other wen which he already had. So the envious neighbor went home weeping, with two wens instead of one.

This is a good lesson to people who cannot see the good luck of others, without coveting it for themselves.

---

Source: A. B. Mitford, Tales of Old Japan (London and New York: Macmillan, 1890), pp. 191-92.

Rock With You

The Silver Cup

Isle of Man

There was once a man living in the south of the island whose name was Colcheragh. He was a farmer, and he had poultry on his street, sheep on the mountain, and cattle in the meadow land alongside the river.

His cows were the best cows in the parish. Nowhere could you see such a fine head of cattle as he had; they were the pride of his heart, and they served him well with milk and butter.

But after a time he began to think that something was amiss with the cows. He went to the cow-house the first thing every morning, and one morning he noticed the cows looking so tired they could hardly stand. When it came to milking time they found not a drop of milk. The girls, who went out to milk the cows, came back with empty cans, saying, "The milk has gone up into the cows' horns!"

Colcheragh began to think that some one had put an evil eye on his cows, so he swept up some of the dust from the cross four-roads close by, in a shovel, and sprinkled it on their backs. But the cows got no better. Then he wondered if some one was coming at night to steal the milk. He made up his mind to sit in the cow-house all night to see if he could catch the thief.

So one night after everyone had gone to bed he crept out of the house and hid himself under some straw in a corner of the cow-house. Hour after hour of the dark lonesome night crept on, and he heard nothing but the cows' breathing and their rustle in the straw. He was very cold and stiff, and he had just made up his mind to go into the house when a glimmering light showed under the door; and then he heard things laughing and talking -- queer talk. He knew that they were not right people.

The cow-house door opened, and in came a whole lot of little men, dressed in green coats and leather caps. Keeking through the straw, he saw their horns hung by their sides, their whips in their hands, and scores of little dogs of every colour -- green, blue, yellow, scarlet, and every colour you can think of -- at their heels. The cows were lying down. The little fellows loosed the yokes from the cows' necks, hopped on their backs, a dozen, maybe, on each cow, and cracked their little whips. The cows jumped to their feet, and Themselves galloped off.

Colcheragh ran to the stable, got on a horse, and made chase after his cows. The night was dark, but he could hear the whizz of the little whips through the air, the click of the cows' hoofs on stones, and the little dogs going, "Yep, yep, yep."

He heard, too, the laughing of Themselves. Then one of them would be singing out to the dogs, calling them up by name, giving a call out of him, "Ho la, ho la, la!"

Colcheragh followed these sounds, keeping close at their heels. On and on they went, helter-skelter over hedges and over ditches till they got to the Fairy Hill, and Colcheragh was still following them, though on any other night he would not have gone within a mile of the great green mound.

When the little fellows came to the hill they sounded a tan-ta-ra-ra-tan on their horns. The hill opened, bright light streamed out, and sounds of music and great merriment. Themselves passed through, and Colcheragh slid off his horse and slipped unnoticed in after them. The hill closed behind them and he found himself in a fine room, lit up till it was brighter than the summer noonday. The whole place was crowded with little people, young and old, men and women, all decked out for a ball, that grand -- he had never looked on the like. Among them were some faces that he thought he had seen before, but he took no notice of them, nor they of him. In one part there was dancing to the music of Hom Mooar -- that was the name of the fiddler -- and when he played all men must follow him whether they would or no. The dancing was like the dancing of flowers in the wind, such dancing as he had never seen before.

In another part his cows were being killed and roasted, and after the dance there was a great feast, with scores of tables set out with silver and gold and everything of the best to eat and drink. There was roast and boiled, and sollaghan and cowree, and puddings and pies, and jough and wine -- a feast fit for the Governor himself.

When they were taking their seats one of them, whose face he thought he knew, whispered to him: "Don't thee taste nothin' here or thou will be like me, and never go back to thy ones no more."

Colcheragh made up his mind to take this advice.

When the feast was coming to an end there was a shout for the joughy-dorrys, the stirrup cup. Someone ran to fetch the cup. The one among the little people, who seemed to be their king, filled it with red wine, drank himself, and passed it on to the rest. It was going round from one to another until it came to Colcheragh, who saw, when he had it in his hands, that it was of fine carved silver, and more beautiful than anything ever seen outside that place.

He said to himself, "The little durts have stolen and killed, and eaten my cattle. This cup, if it were. mine, would pay me for all."

So standing up and grasping the silver cup tightly in his hand, he held it up and said, "Shoh Slaynt!" which is the Manx toast.

Then he dashed the cupful of wine over Themselves and the lights. In an instant the place was in black darkness, save for, a stime of grey dawn light which came through the chink of the half-closed door. Colcheragh made for it, cup in hand, slammed the door behind him, and ran for his life.

After a moment of uproar Themselves missed the cup and Colcheragh, and with yells of rage they poured out of the hill, after him, in full chase. The farmer, who had a good start, ran as he had never run before. He knew he would get small mercy at their hands if he was caught; he went splashing through the wet mire and keeping off the stepping stones; he knew they could not take him in the water. He looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the whole Mob Beg behind him, close at his heels, waving their naked arms in the light of the torch each one held up. On they come, shrieking and howling in Manx:

Colcheragh, Colcheragh,
Put thy foot on the stone,
And do not put it in the wet!

But he ran in the water till he came to the churchyard, and they could not touch him there. When he went into the cowhouse the next morning the cows had all come home and they got rest after that.

He put the cup in the church at Rushen, and they are saying it was there for, many years; then it was sent to London. It is said that after this the farmer would not go out of his house of an evening after dark.

---

• Source: Sophia Morrison, Manx Fairy Tales (London: David Nutt, 1911), pp. 27-33.

• Link to additional tales about thieving fairies: Fairy Theft.

The Trolls Celebrate Christmas

Sweden

Of the manner in which the trolls celebrate Christmas Eve there are traditions throughout the whole North. At that time it is not advisable for Christian men to be out. On the heaths witches and little trolls ride, one on a wolf, another on a broom or a shovel, to their assemblies, where they dance under their stones. These stones are then raised on pillars, under which the trolls dance and drink. In the mount are then to be heard mirth and music, dancing and drinking. On Christmas morn, during the time between cock-crowing and daybreak, it is highly dangerous to be abroad.

One Christmas night in the year 1490, as Fru Cissela Ulftand was sitting in her mansion at Liungby in Scania, a great noise was heard proceeding from the trolls assembled at the Magle stone, when one of the lady's boldest servants rode out to see what was going on. He found the stone raised, and the trolls in a noisy whirl dancing under it. A beautiful female stepped forth, and presented to the guest a drinking horn and a pipe, requesting him to drink the troll-king's health and to blow in the pipe. He took the horn and pipe, but at the same instant clapped spurs to his horse, and galloped straight, over rough and smooth, to the mansion.

The trolls followed him in a body with a wild cry of threats and prayers, but the man kept the start, and delivered both horn and pipe into the hands of his mistress.

The trolls promised prosperity and riches to Fru Cissela's race, if she would restore their pipe and horn; but she persisted in keeping them, and they are still preserved at Liungby, as memorials of the wonderful event. The horn is said to be of an unknown mixture of metals with brass ornaments, and the pipe of a horse's leg-bone.

The man who stole them from the trolls died three days after, and the horse on the second day. Liungby mansion has been twice burnt, and the Ulftand family never prospered afterwards. This tradition teaches that Christians should act justly even towards trolls.

It is also related of some priests, who were riding before daybreak by a mount on a Christmas morning, while the trolls were at their sports, how a berg- or mount-woman came out and offered them drink in metal bowls; and how they cast the drink behind them, but that some drops chanced to fall on the horses' loins and burned the hair off. The bowls they carried away with them, and such are still to be found in several churches, where, it is said, they were formerly used as chalices.

This drink, which the trolls were in the habit of offering so liberally, was believed to have the property of obliterating from the memory all the past, and of rendering the guest who partook of it contented with all he met with in the mount.

---

• Source: Benjamin Thorpe, Northern Mythology: Comprising the Principal Popular Traditions and Superstitions of Scandinavia, North Germany, and the Netherlands, vol. 2 (London: Edward Lumley, 1851), pp. 89-91.

• Liungby is spelled Ljungby in modern Swedish. Scania (Swedish Skåne) is a geographical region at the southernmost tip of Sweden. It has strong historical connection to Denmark.

Mr. Hawk and Brother Rabbit

African-America (Joel Chandler Harris)

One time Brer Rabbit was going along through the bushes singing to himself, and he saw a shadow pass before him. He looked up, and there was Mr. Hawk sailing around and around. Every time he sailed around, he got a little closer, but Brer Rabbit didn't notice this, and by and by, down he dropped right slam-bang on Brer Rabbit, and there he had him. He held him in a mighty tight grip. He held him so tight that it made Brer Rabbit's breath come short like it does off a long journey.

He hollered and he begged, but that didn't do any good. He squalled and he cried, but that didn't do any good. He kicked and he groaned, but that didn't do any good. Then Brer Rabbit lay still and studied about what in the name of goodness he was going to do. By and by he up and allowed, "I don't know what you want with me, Mr. Hawk. I am scarcely a mouthful for you."

Mr. Hawk, he said, "I'll do away with you, and then I'll go catch me a couple of jay-birds."

This made Brer Rabbit shake all over, because if there was any kind of creature that he despised on the topside of the earth, it was a jay-bird. Brer Rabbit, he said, "Do pray, Mr. Hawk, go catch those jay-birds first, because I can't stand them being on top of me. I'll stay right here until you come back," he said.

Mr. Hawk, he said, "Oh-oh, Brer Rabbit, you've been fooling too many folks. You're not fooling me," he said.

Brer Rabbit, he said, "If you can't do that, Mr. Hawk, then the best thing for you to do is to wait and let me get tame, because I am so wild now that I won't taste good."

Mr. Hawk, he said, "Oh-oh!"

Brer Rabbit, he said, "Well then, if that won't do, you had better wait and let me grow big, so I'll be a full meal of vittles."

Mr. Hawk, he said, "Now you are talking sense!"

Brer Rabbit, he said, "And I'll rush around among the bushes and drive out some partridges for you, and we'll have more fun than what you can shake a stick at."

Mr. Hawk was sort of studying about this, and Brer Rabbit, he begged, and he explained, and the long and short of it was that Brer Rabbit got loose, and he did not get any bigger, and neither did he drive out any partridges for Mr. Hawk.

---

• Source: Joel Chandler Harris, Nights with Uncle Remus (Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin, and Company, 1883), no. 65, pp. 366-70.

• Dialect normalized by D. L. Ashliman. © 2000. Harris's story includes additional episodes. Here I have extracted only the episode of type 122F from his longer story.

Black Robin

Wales

There was once an old man in North Wales called Robin Ddu, or Black Robin. He pretended to be a wizard, and though he had no magical power, he was so cunning that he made people believe he had, and his fame spread over the whole of Wales.

A lady in the Vale of Towy lost three precious gems. They had been given to her by a dead sister, and she valued them all the more on that account. Every search was made for them, but they could not be found.

The lady had not heard of the Well of Llanbedrog. (By means of that it is quite easy to discover who has stolen your property. All you have to do is to kneel by it, and after throwing in a bit of bread, name all whom you suspect. When the thief's name is mentioned, the bread sinks.)

But she had heard of Black Robin, and at last she decided to send for him. She dispatched a servant to North Wales to offer him fifty pounds if he would restore her lost diamonds to her, and Robin traveled south with the messenger. When he arrived, he said he would not begin his work unless fifty pounds were given to him beforehand.

"Fifty pounds is a lot of money," said the lady. "I should like to test your power before giving it you."

To this Robin reluctantly agreed. The lady put a tame robin redbreast under a dish on the table. Sending for the supposed magician, she asked him to say what was under the vessel. He did not know what to say or do, and thought the best thing he could do was to confess his ignorance.

"Robin is caught," he said.

Thinking he referred to the bird and not to himself, the lady was astounded at what she regarded as a wonderful display of power, and Robin was too cunning to confess. The money was paid over, and the process of finding the gems began.

First of all he inquired carefully into all the circumstances of the disappearance of the gems, cross-examining all the inmates of the house minutely. This investigation convinced him that one of the servants had stolen them, but for some time he could not find out the actual thief.

One day, as he was taking the air with one of the menservants, he happened to enter the churchyard. The sexton in digging a grave had come across a quantity of old bones, among them being a skull. Robin took the skull back with him to his room, and his startled companion told the servants' hall about it.

Then Robin called all the servants to him, and looking very stern, "Tomorrow night," said he, "I will summon a legion of devils, and they will punish the guilty with all the tortures of hell. But the innocent shall not suffer with the guilty. Take these," and with this he handed to each a tooth which he had wrenched from the skull. "By Friday morning" (it was then Wednesday) "the guilty, after suffering unspeakable anguish and pain, will be as dead as the body from which these teeth have been taken. But I will not invoke my devils if the gems are brought to me before midnight, nor will I disclose to any living soul who took them."

Sure enough, before midnight on Thursday a trembling maidservant brought the diamonds to his room. The next thing to devise was how to restore them to their owner without disclosing the manner in which hey had been recovered, and at the same time in such a way as to reflect credit on himself as a magician.

Looking out of his window in the morning he saw a flock of geese feeding in a field not far from the mansion. Going out he took with him a small piece of bread, in which he placed the stones. He threw the piece of bread to the gander, which at once greedily swallowed it.

Some time after, summoning the lady, "Kill that gander," he said, "and you will find inside him your lost treasure."

This was done and the diamonds were found.

"They were dropped on the floor and accidentally swept out with the dust," he explained, "and this greedy bird swallowed them. By means of the skull which the sexton dug out of the grave on Wednesday I was able to divine the mystery."

---

Source: W. Jenkyn Thomas, The Welsh Fairy Book (London: T. Fisher Unwin, Ltd., [1908], pp. 296-298.

Doctor and Detective

Denmark

There was once an old farmer who had a great deal of turf, which he sold to customers in town. One day, when he drove to town with a large wagonload, he chanced to meet a doctor. This worthy man came walking along in a stately manner, with a long pipe in his mouth, a cane in his hand, and a doctor's hat on his head. Under his arm he had a thick doctor-book. He was wrapped in a long, loose mantle.

The farmer tipped his hat reverently, whereupon the doctor addressed him and said that he would like to buy the turf. They talked back and forth for some time, and finally came to an agreement in regard to the price. The farmer was to have the long mantle, the pipe and the cane, the doctor's hat and the book, and the doctor was to receive the turf. The bargain was closed. The farmer secured the doctor's articles and the doctor the farmer's turf, and then each went his own way.

It was late before the farmer returned home to his wife. She asked him at once if he had made a good bargain. When he produced the entire doctor's outfit she was not at all pleased, but wept, and asked, plaintively, how they would now obtain their bread and butter, since he had received no money for the turf.

Her husband did his best to comfort her, saying that in a little while they would have all that they needed, for now he had decided to take up a doctor's profession. He put on the mantle and the doctor's hat, and with the long pipe dangling from between his teeth he sat from morning to night reading diligently in the large doctor-book. He looked exactly like a real doctor. No one would notice the slightest difference. But, nevertheless, no one came to consult him.

Thinking the reason might be that no one knew of him, he at length decided to place a sign above his door stating, "Here Lives the Greatest Doctor in the World," as he was sure this would at once turn the general attention towards him. He began to paint these letters on an old board. But as he had a very faint idea of writing -- in fact, this was the first time he had ever tried the art -- he wrote instead, "Here Lives the Greatest Detective in the World."

A few days afterwards the king happened to pass the house of the "Greatest Detective."

"What in all the world is written on that sign?" said he, dispatching one of his servants over to examine it closely. The servant reported that the sign advertised the greatest detective in the world. "Well," said the king, "I shall remember him and employ his services some day."

Some time after, it happened that a thief entered the royal stables and stole two of the king's best horses. A thorough search was made throughout the land, both for the thief and the horses, but without success. At length someone reminded the king of the detective whose house they had passed.

"Exactly so!" cried the king. "Now we shall find both thief and horses." He at once bid one of his men go and seek the wise man's advice in the difficult problem. The man rode back, found the house, knocked at the door, and walked in. Here he saw the detective sitting in front of the table, reading in the large doctor-book. He took off his hat, bowed politely, and presented the king's compliments. "I have come," he said, "to ask --"

"That is all very well," interrupted the doctor. "I know it already."

"Oh yes, of course you do," answered the messenger. "Will you kindly direct me where to go and find them?"

"Ye-es," replied the wise man, turning the leaves in the large book before him. "I will tell you what to do. Wait a moment." Now he took out a slip of paper which he had found among the leaves in the book, folded it, and handed it to the messenger, directing him to go to the drugstore and have this prescription filled. "Take the medicine promptly," he concluded, "then you will find them!" He looked just as wise and important as any doctor in the land and waved his hand graciously at the messenger as a sign that the audience was at an end.

The messenger lost no time in having the prescription filled, and as soon as the medicine was in his hand he took a drink from the bottle, and rode along as rapidly as he could, anxious to return to the king and relate his interview with the extraordinary man who seemed to know all beforehand.

He had not gone very far, however, before the medicine began to act. Of a sudden he was seized with a terrible headache, and was obliged to seek refuge in a house near the road, where he was very kindly received. Thinking that a little rest would do him good, he lay down on a sofa in a room facing the yard. The headache became more and more severe, however, and the poor fellow cursed the wise man and his medicine with all his heart. But just as he complained of his evil fate, he heard the neighing of a horse in the stable across the yard.

He arose quietly and approached the window, listening attentively, as the neighing seemed familiar to him. Now the horse neighed once more. His doubts vanished, and as the same moment his headache seemed to also completely vanish. Silently he opened the window, jumped into the yard, crept into the stable, and at once found the stolen horses, which he immediately untied. A few hours later he stood before the king, who did not know how to praise and reward the wisdom of the Great Detective before whom nothing was, of course, concealed. He lost no time in sending him two hundred dollars as a token of his high esteem and his gratitude.

When the doctor received the money he said to his wife that a doctor's trade seemed to be a very easy one, and she answered that his bargain, which had seemed to her a foolish one, was, after all, quite satisfactory so far.

Some time passed, when one day a beautiful gold ring belonging to the princess was stolen. A diligent search was made, but it seemed to have vanished altogether, with the thief. At length the Great Detective was named to the king as the right man to be consulted in this difficult affair. His majesty lost no time in sending a beautiful carriage and a messenger, with an invitation to the great man. Would he kindly assist in finding the gold ring which had been stolen?

"Yes, I know it all," said he to the messenger who stood before him, bowing politely, "and I am willing to come."

So he entered the carriage in his complete doctor's outfit, followed by his wife, whereupon they drove to the royal palace. The king himself stepped forward and opened the carriage door to the worthy couple, bowing and scraping and making himself agreeable.

He invited them to partake of a dinner. The following day they would begin the search for the ring. The wise man assented to this, and they proceeded to the dinner table, which was, of course, laid in a splendid and gorgeous manner. The doctor whispered to his wife that she must remember how many dishes they had. When all had been seated, the door was opened and in came the servant with the first dish.

The wise man looked at his wife, nodded, and said, "This is the first one." He did not see -- in fact no one did -- that the servant turned as pale as a sheet, but busied himself with doing justice to the excellent things before him.

The servant, however, was fearfully frightened, and before returning to the kitchen he stopped behind the chair of the Great Detective, plucking him by the sleeve in order to attract his attention, but without apparent result. The dismayed man had nothing to do but return to the kitchen.

He was one of the thieves, and, with two other servants, had stolen the ring and buried it in the royal gardens under a large apple tree. Pale and trembling from fear, he told his two friends how the Great Detective had said to his wife, "This is the first one" -- meaning of course, the first thief.

As the second servant was to carry in the next dish, his two comrades told him to do his best and ask the wise man to step into the kitchen. Perhaps he could be induced to spare their lives. As the servant entered the dining hall, the doctor said to his wife, "This is the second one." She nodded.

The servant grew white from fear and pulled him from behind by the sleeve. The great man thought, however, of nothing but the dishes, and did not feel the servant's endeavor to attract his attention. Thus the poor fellow was obliged to return to the kitchen without having accomplished his errand.

When the third servant entered, the doctor said to his wife, "This is the third one."

The servant pulled him, however, so violently by the sleeve that he turned in his chair, asking what he wanted. "Would he," whispered the unfortunate man, "go with him into the kitchen?" So he arose and followed him.

When he entered the kitchen the three servants implored him to spare them. He was right. They had stolen the ring. The wise man looked keenly at the three culprits, bit his lips, and said that of course he had know it all the time. They were great rascals who deserved a severe punishment. He did not know whether he could really save them from the gallows.

They now fell upon their knees and implored him to show mercy. They would be willing to give back the ring and pay him two hundred dollars if he would agree to keep their secret. This he promised, and before leaving them he told them to put the ring into a cake and serve it to the king's dog the next morning. They promised to do as he bid them.

Next morning the king began to speak of the lost ring. The Great Detective assumed his most important air, looked around him, and finally fixed his glance upon the big dog which was walking about on the floor. They were just eating breakfast, and when one of the servants carried around the dishes he stole a glance at the doctor and nodded, thus assuring him that the dog had eaten the cake. "Can you tell me where to find the thief and the ring?" pursued the king.

"Both are in this room!" answered he.

The king looked around in great astonishment. "Both in this room?" repeated he.

"There is the thief," continued the doctor, pointing to the dog.

Now the king was thoroughly amazed, and even angry. He thought the wise man made fun of him. "Kill the thief," said the doctor, sternly, "and you will be sure to find the ring." They did so at once, and, indeed, found the ring in the stomach of the animal.

The wise man received a great sum of money from the king, and afterward the three servants paid him the two hundred dollars which they had promised him for keeping their secret.

But from this day the doctor became so famous that no one dared to steal. His very name frightened the thieves and made them control their evil instincts. Although he was no more called upon to detect stolen goods, he had already earned money enough for the rest of his lifetime. He lived happily many years, honored by everyone in the land.

---

Source: J. Christian Bay, Danish Folk Tales (New York and London: Harper and Brothers Publishers, 1899), pp. 111-118.

The Departure of the Dwarves Over the Bridge

Wilhelm und Jacob Grimm, German Legends

The small caverns in the cliffs which one may find on the south side of the Harz mountains, especially in several areas of the Hohenstein region were once inhabited by dwarves. These caverns, which are still called "dwarf caverns," are mostly so low at their entrance that grown men can only crawl inside. The interior, however, partially offers roomy accomodation for larger groups.

Between Walkenried and Neuhof in the region of Hohenstein the dwarves used to have two kingdoms.

One inhabitant of that area once noted that his fields were being pilfered each night, but he could not discover who the culprits were. Finally, he acted on the advice of a wise woman: Going out to his pea field when night had fallen, he swept his thin staff about, over the field in the air.

It did not take long before several dwarves stood tangibly before him, for he had knocked off their invisible-making hats. Trembling, the dwarves fell at his feet and confessed: That it was their people which had been stealing from the fields of the inhabitants, but this they were forced to do out of great need.

The news of the accosted dwarves spread like wildfire and the whole community was in an uproar.

The dwarf people finally sent representatives and offered to pay ransom for themselves and their accosted brothers, intending then to leave the land forever.

However, the manner in which the departure was to take place became a new bone of contention. The local inhabitants did not want to allow the dwarves to leave with all their stored and hidden treasures and the dwarves themselves did not want to be seen as they left.

Finally, it was agreed upon that the dwarves should depart by way of a narrow bridge at Neuhof and that each of them, unobserved by the inhabitants, should toss a certain quantity of their wealth as a departure toll into a container which was to be placed there.

However, several curious individuals concealed themselves beneath the bridge, at least to hear the procession of the dwarves. Thus, for many hours they heard the footsteps of the little people, as if a large herd of sheep were passing over the bridge.

Since this last great departure of the dwarves only seldom does a dwarf or two allow itself to be seen. However, even in the older times of our forefathers, sometimes the dwarves which remained behind in the mountain heights would steal new-born infants from the homes of the inhabitants, replacing them with changelings.

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• Source: Wilhelm und Jacob Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, 1. Teil, Richard Dorson, Issachar Ben Ami, Vilmos Voigt, Eds., (New York: Arno Press, 1977), pp. 116-117 (no. 153).